DAY 26
Week 4
CODY (Wyoming, USA) to GARRYOWEN (Montana, USA)
Sunday July 16th, 2006
TODAYS MILEAGE – 180 miles or 290 kilometres
TRIP MILEAGE – 2806 miles or 4516 kilometres
Fitzy almost joined Custer at his Last Stand!!! 
Sunday and again I couldn't find a church to save myself. They all must have heard about me???
For a town that's major industry is tourism, there hasn't been a lot forethought into some of the amenities in Cody. There's not a lot of RV parking in town and not one of the service stations (servos) had the holy trinity to all RV'rs: fuel, propane and a waste water dump. I had go to three different servos to either fill up or empty the Man Pad. This saw me leaving at around 10:30 AM for the "projected" 4 hour trip to where Custer cashed in his chips.
I said "projected" because it actually took me 6½ hours for the trip. All was going fine until I hit Shell (Wyoming) for the 21 mile (36 kilometre) climb from 4000 feet to 9200 feet. I felt sorry for the RV as I was constantly manually shifting from 1st to 2nd and back just to keep momentum. The temperature gauge rose to over ¾ which it's never done on the trip.
I go to the top and with nowhere to safely pull over to let the RV cool down, I kept on going. As we all know, what goes up - must come down (except bosses wages, taxes and mortgage payments) and the sign stated there was 11 miles of down hill. What it didn't mention until you were into the downhill run - with no way to get off the road, was the numerous 7% gradients.
I could smell the brakes beginning to boil, so I kept my speed to a minimum, as much as you can with a 5 ton vehicle towing a 2 ton four wheel drive, and tried to stay off the brakes as much as I can, but alas, the best laid plans of mice and men were ineffective this day.
About a mile before I got off the hill, I completely lost my brakes. There were no run off areas and no way to run the RV into anything to slow it down. I could see the promised land flatten out just another mile down the road. But it wasn't to be.
To the arsehole who went by me, during all this, in the black Ford Explorer with his horn blaring, with the #1 driver salute prominently displayed and yelling something about using my indicator when pulling of the road, I have but a few words of wisdom for you my friend - "listen here you turd burglar, go suck my blue vein custard chucker you poor excuse for a human. I hope you have Firestone tires on your shitbox Explorer!!! Stop breathing my air, for on my mothers grave, if I ever meet you, I can make that happen - easily!!!".
Yeah, you're right, I was a little upset. You see, as I seem to recall, I had a bit going at the time —
• My right hand was on the gear lever, trying to go back down through the gears, without over-taxing the transmission.
• The left hand was on the hand brake, which you have to reach down to the floor to operate, with a gentle touch, for fear of locking up the rear brakes and getting into a jackknife slide.
• Plus I was trying to pump what little vehicle brakes I did have.
• As well as steer around hairpin corners.
• Find a safe place to pull 7 plus tons of rolling mass over AND I have indicate to your good self that I was leaving the road. FUCK YOU VERY MUCH COCKBREATH!!!
After all motion had ceased. I just sat there for a good 5 minutes, thanked my lucky stars and the good person upstairs as she obviously has a warped sense of humour!
I don't mind admitting it, but my clacker valve was going a hundred to one and I was kacking me dacks during this time. The last time I was shit scared like that was when I was waiting to see if Ruth was going turn up at the John Flynn Anglican church and walk down the aisle to me. I'm not sure if it was the fact that I gave her the option of postponing the wedding or calling it off (as there were a heap of outside influences wanting to see that) or it may have been when I said if she left me at the alter I would hunt her down an kill her???
After the dust had settled, I went and checked the brake fluid and it was way down. I had the thing serviced 500 miles ago and they guaranteed to check & replenish all fluids, but it was obvious from the dirt and oil on the brake master cylinder, that it had not been checked in a long time. I unhooked the Trailblazer and had to go 22 miles to the next town for brake fluid. Once that was sorted, it was only another 79 miles (127 kilometre) to where I am now camped - at the 7th Ranch RV Campground. Which I might add, that I am now comfortably numb while updating the web site/blog ... after a few stiff White Russians.
I don't want to come off as a smart arse, a wanker or a big noter or anything, but as I was covering the last hour and a half to Garryowen (Montana) I was thinking to myself, that this has been at least the 10th time that I've been involved in a potentially life threatening situation. Each and every time I seem to put aside all notions of panic and start running down in my mind a mental check list of what can I do to make this situation have a better outcome. Granted, today's episode came to a successful outcome because of 30 years of stuff arsing around with vehicles, but that doesn't account for stuff like Ayers Rock before my wedding, river rafting on the Carbarton Run, punctured lung on truck driver on the Barkly Highway, seizure of a rugby player on a bus, skull fracture of a team mate of mine and so forth.
Anyways, I'm just glad I'm still able to get these updates out or some of you mongrels would come looking for me with a big stick!!
Be safe!!!
Check ya later.